The Mad King (The Dark Kings #1)(69)

But she hated silence. “So is this a dream or what?” At this point, she was 99.9999 percent certain this wasn’t a dream, but she wanted to talk. Even if that meant talking with the most sexy, infuriating man she’d ever met in her life.

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,” he said, words laced with a bitter sadness that made her heart tremble.

“Sure.” She was confused. Was he agreeing with her or not? Why did she suddenly want to wrap him in her arms? The haunted sorrow in his gaze touched something in her heart.

She set her jaw and tapped her hand against her thigh. The man was ridiculous, spoke in riddles, and yet—her stomach did a somersault—she couldn’t stop the mental pictures of him nude with her sprawled on top of him.

She groaned. He was mean. She didn’t like him. He’d freakin’ made her walk through a forest without shoes. Her tender feet had gotten bruised and bloody, and it was so easy to give in to the hate, but then he’d saved her from that damn snake, washed her smelly feet, and nothing made sense anymore. Since the moment they’d left the mushroom glade, he’d been acting different. Not so angry and cold.

Stems of grass brushed against her ankles like the softest satin. Stars gleamed in the navy-blue sky, brighter than any diamond. Wind, pregnant with the fragrance of flowers, sifted gentle fingers through her hair.

“I’d swear I was drunk as a skunk right now except for the fact that I don’t feel in the least bit tipsy. I just cannot accept I’m in Wonderland though. This is ridiculous.”

A loud snore, like the braying of a donkey, startled her. She yelped, and Hatter pointed to a shadowy lump beside them. A huge skunk lay sprawled on its back, a glass bottle by its head. Its bushy black-and-white tail twitched back and forth, tiny feet jerking like a dog’s when asleep.

“Is that a—”

“Words have power.” His eyes narrowed, and he was looking at her differently now, not shocked or amazed exactly, but different. He turned. Alice hadn’t been aware he’d been standing so close until suddenly it seemed as if he took up all her space. She licked her lips, skin tingling with a rush of blood. He looked like he wanted to say more.

“Alice—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he was working up the courage to say more.

The hot shiver of the Hatter’s sherry-tinted breath fanned her face. She squirmed. She wanted to touch him, touch herself. Anything, just to end the madness of lust spreading through her veins like a sickness.

Then his gaze grew hooded and he turned back around. She sucked in a shaky breath, knees suddenly weak. What was going on? Hadn’t she just been pissed at him?

“What the hell happened back there? Did I make that thing appear?” she asked his back.

He stopped and she caught back up to him. He looked down at her. “You tell me.”

Pulse trapped in her throat because suddenly nothing made sense, she grabbed his hand. “Why am I here?”

There’d been one other time in her life when words had shifted her reality, and it’d not been magic at all but a tumor the size of a golf ball in her brain. Was she sick again? Stomach revolting with worry, she squeezed his fingers.

His jaw clenched. He looked at their clasped hands, and she expected him to let go. Hatter sighed and pulled her in for a hug.

Stunned, she didn’t move. It didn’t seem like a kind hug, or even an I-want-to-strip-you-and-make-love hug. He trembled and she sensed that, much like the snake, power rippled behind the touch, and if he wanted to he could hurt her. Maybe he did want to.

His hard fingers bunched into the back of her shirt. A part of Alice wanted to shove him back, make him let her go. But she just couldn’t because this was the man she’d loved her entire life. The man she’d craved since age thirteen.

“You smell like cinnamon and tea,” she shyly admitted. “My favorites.”

He cleared his throat. “It is time.” Was his voice shaking? Time for what? She wanted to ask but doubted he’d elaborate as he hadn’t done so yet, and if she’d learned anything in her short life, it was not to ask stupid questions she knew would never get answered. For now, she’d wait and watch.

Alice looked and then blinked, trying to rattle the image loose. Much like the fictional Alice, she was presented with a table, empty, save for the small slices of strawberry-festooned cakes. Each one had a sign in it. One read: Eat Me. The other: Poison. And she couldn’t stop the delighted thrill that zipped down her spine as she recognized one of her favorite scenes from the book.

Nibbling on her lip, she glanced at him. What was she supposed to choose? Alice hadn’t had a choice, so this was kind of different and whole lot confusing. Hatter didn’t move for one or the other, and his blank face gave nothing away. There’d be no taking a lead off his cue.

Was he testing her?

She looked around for any sign or clue, but it was pointless. Nothing could or would help her. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the Eat Me slice. Just as she ripped the tip off, the sharp slap of his hand made her drop it. Shocked, she glanced at her stinging hand. “Did you just slap me?”

At least he had the good sense not to deny it. Most people would have said, “I didn’t do that,” or “That’s not what I meant.”

“Bad is good. Good is bad.”

Then he tore off two chunks from the poisoned cake and handed one to her.